


Trust

by quilfish_swan



Series: Closer (Sakura/Sasuke post-war one-shots) [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Just walking and talking, No plot whatsoever, Post-War, Sasuke needs a hug, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25449832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quilfish_swan/pseuds/quilfish_swan
Summary: “Would you like to come with me this time?”With a breathless yes, a fluttering stomach, and a racing heart, she packs her things, and they’re off.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Series: Closer (Sakura/Sasuke post-war one-shots) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843336
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy :)

_"Maybe next time,”_ he says, when she asks.

She watches him go and waits for his return, again and again, patient and hopeful, cherishing the time they spend between his trips away. She doesn’t ask again. Then one afternoon, as they’re buying groceries for his next journey, he asks _her._

“Would you like to come with me this time?”

With a breathless _yes,_ a fluttering stomach, and a racing heart, she packs her things, and they’re off. 

Sakura hadn't anticipated that most of their time under trees and sun and stars would be spent in silence. Although, she supposes she should have known; not only is Sasuke a man of few words already, but she must also remind herself that his travels away from the village are not some sort of woodland vacation, but rather consecrated time for Sasuke to right his sins. To be invited to accompany him on such an endeavor feels sacred.

It's been two months since his release from prison, a little over a year since the end of the war. In that time Sasuke has grown infinitely softer than Sakura had thought him capable. He doesn't quite seem sad, but not happy either—perhaps solemn and sober are words she'd use to describe him now. 

While she's content just to be near him, Sakura is admittedly glad she brought a book with her. She reads, and Sasuke spends his time meditating, walking, and, to her surprise, writing; throughout the day he pens characters on small pieces of parchment before folding them up, almost ritualistically. Sometimes he keeps them, tucks them in his cloak. Sometimes he releases them into the river. Though she knows she shouldn't pry, one day she asks about it. 

She isn't expecting an answer, so she looks up when he says, "I suppose they're like prayers."

 _Prayers._ Of what, and to whom, she wonders, but doesn't force him to elaborate. 

-

Often, she’ll pick flowers as they walk, telling Sasuke the names of the ones she knows from her time spent with Ino in the flower shop. If she can’t remember the correct term, she’ll make up some silly new word that sounds vaguely scientific, and the corners of Sasuke’s lips will turn up. He’ll tell her, “That’s stupid,” and she’ll laugh and throw leaves in his hair. 

Touch between them is uncommon, consisting mainly of bumped shoulders when the two awkwardly and unintentionally walk too close to each other, or grasped arms as Sasuke helps her up a particularly steep hill. Every once in a while Sakura will risk a hand on his knee as they talk during meals. She doesn't know if she'll ever get used to his smile at her contact.

Together they read Naruto’s letters that come in from the village and giggle at how he gushes over Hinata and complains about work. By the light of the fire, she’ll steal glances at him. Often, he’s already looking at her, with soft eyes behind long dark hair. A past version of herself might have fainted on sight; the current Sakura simply smiles, grateful for his friendship, grateful that he’s safe, grateful that she’s with him. 

One night, as they lay sleeping side by side, untouching, under their makeshift covering, his voice startles her awake. At first she can't make out what he's saying, but then it becomes clear: 

"Big brother. Big brother." He shifts. Then, more urgent: _"Itachi."_

She props herself up on an elbow and finds his face contorted in pain. Blue moonlight casts strange shadows on his skin. 

"Sasuke..." she whispers. She hesitates before slowly threading fingers through his hair (something she'd never try in the daylight, though she certainly doesn't make a habit of it in the dark). "It's just a dream." Gently, she smooths the creases between his brows until they remain relaxed, and he appears peaceful again. She sleepily thinks that he looks so much younger this way, before sinking back onto her side.

He rustles once more, and mumbles, “How could they do this to you, Itachi?”

Baffled, she turns back to him. _How could they do this to you, Itachi?_ She’s fully awake now. 

She waits for more, but Sasuke doesn’t stir again. With that phrase repeating in her mind, it takes her a while to fall back asleep.

In the morning, she doesn't bring it up.

-

Most often, she wakes up alone, finding Sasuke sitting by the water with crossed legs and his face towards the sky. Sometimes he's silent, sometimes he speaks; sometimes, she hears him. She doesn't strain her ears for complete sentences, but she often catches the words _Konoha, forgive,_ and every once in a while, _Itachi._

 _Itachi..._

One morning, after about two weeks on the road, Sasuke is at the river again (silent this time). At the risk of chasing him away and destroying the progress she's made, she sits down next to him. _She will ask him today._

"Good morning," she says.

“Good morning.” He doesn’t quite smile, but his expression is warm and genuine. 

(So rare was it in their genin days to find him wearing anything but a scowl, so seeing the kindness in his face now calms her nerves.) Carefully, she starts, knowing she's approaching dangerous territory. 

"Sasuke," she treads, "if you don't want to tell me, it's okay. But I—" Her voice catches. _What happened with Itachi?_ she wants to ask.

She used to think she knew: Itachi had massacred their entire clan; it seemed obvious that would be a burden to be carried forever. But Sasuke's strange sleep talk had left her unsettled. 

It sparked her realization that at some point during Sasuke's time as a rogue shinobi—sometime after Itachi’s death, more accurately—something had... happened. In killing his brother, Sasuke had finally avenged his people, his singular goal for as long as she'd known him. But instead of closure, he seemed only to gain more anger and hatred. It could've been a natural reaction (with enough trauma, anything is possible, she supposes grimly), but she likes to think she knows Sasuke better than that; for all the rage he is capable of, it's never been directed without intention, without _reason._ His sudden determination to destroy the village after they'd reunited made no sense. And the subsequent declaration that he’d become the Hokage? Even less. 

She knows she is missing a piece, and she doesn’t know where else to start. 

"What is it, Sakura?" he asks. Then, awkwardly: "Don't be afraid to ask me."

With a deep breath, she pushes away the fear that her suspicion (of what _exactly,_ she doesn't know) is wildly wrong, and she forces herself to say it. "Did something happen with your brother?"

As soon as it leaves her lips, she feels silly. Of course something had _happened._ She prays that he'll know what she means. She half expects him not to answer at all; she wouldn't have blamed him. He’s quiet for a long time, and she’s more than willing to let it go. 

Then he sighs. "Maybe another day."

She nods, curiosity gnawing at her more fiercely than before. _Something happened._

But she drops it entirely. So she’s surprised when, a few days later as they’re walking along the stream in the late afternoon, he says, “It’s a long story.”

(How different he is from their younger years.)

She doesn’t have to ask what he means. It is an invitation—not an obvious one, but she knows an outstretched hand when she sees one, and her heartbeat quickens the slightest bit. She says softly, "That's okay. If you want to tell me, I'll listen."

“I’m—not really supposed to.” The edge of bitterness on his words is subtle, but it’s there.

She waits.

“But I want to.”

Offering a reassuring smile, she touches his arm.

“I’m here. If you want.”

They find a spot by the water to rest, and he begins—hesitant at first, but more confident as he goes.

She hangs on every word as he tells her of his childhood days with Itachi, of his brother’s endless gentleness and dreams of becoming Hokage, and how the village elders had used him, at thirteen years old, to prevent revolt and bloodshed in the Leaf. He tells her how he'd exiled himself with misguided hope that one day Sasuke would kill him and become the hero who avenged the Uchiha, and how he'd never intended for Sasuke to know any of it.

At first all she can do is stare at him as the pieces fall into place, forming a coherent picture. She can hardly believe a secret of this scale has been concealed for so long, and she can't find the right words to say. (She recalls Naruto mentioning Itachi in a strange way when talking about the Edo Tensei jutsu before quickly trying to change the subject, and it makes sense to her now.) 

"Sasuke..." she says. "I had no idea.”

"No one did." 

“Does... anyone else know now?” she asks, thinking of—

“Naruto,” he answers, echoing her thoughts. “Kakashi-sensei. Yamato-sensei. Orochimaru. My old team, Taka. The two remaining village elders. That’s all.”

She nods. Her stomach turns, and she can’t attempt to comprehend the anguish both brothers endured without feeling sick.

“I wish it were more,” he confesses. “I wish everyone knew.” The bitterness is back, this time in his eyes. “Sometimes I still want to scream it, tell everyone I see, clear his name.” His voice sounds constricted and broken. “He was... so kind. So _young._ He didn’t deserve..." He closes his eyes, his brows knit together. (She resists the impulse tenderly to massage away the lines, as she had nights previously while he dreamed.) "He threw his life away to save me. I hated the village for it."

It suddenly feels wrong that Sasuke is here, repenting, when it seems that Konoha’s collective sins are greater than his own. His past desire to destroy the Leaf, and then his intent to govern it… it seems far less crazy to her now. 

His glassy eyes suggest his thoughts are far away from here. 

"But," he continues slowly, as if unsure, "there are years of my life that I can never get back because of him. He told me before he died—the second time—that he would always love me. I believe him… but he was so good at making me think he _hated_ me. And I spent so many years hating him. He hurt me over and over and _over_." The words are tight, like it's hard for him to force them out at all. "Did he have to go so far? Did he have to torture me _so much?"_

Seeing him so vulnerable is new, strange, heartbreaking. She knows she can't begin to understand, but she longs to reach out to him, to hold him and reassure him of... what? That Itachi loved him? She knows she is in no position to say. 

Sasuke retreats as if he's said something he shouldn't: "I know that what he did made sense to him... he wanted to ensure that I would hate him enough to kill him. But..." He trails off, and she's almost afraid to even breathe, as if doing so will interrupt his thoughts and close him up again. Never has she heard him talk so openly and so much at a time, and she doesn't want him to stop. She's relieved when he continues.

"When I first found out the truth," he says, "I thought Itachi was perfect. A victim. A martyr. And he was a victim, in a way... of prejudice and a broken system." He picks up a small stone and turns it in his hand for a few moments before tossing it into the river. "But now I realize that he had real darkness in him. Darkness that allowed him to put duty above love, without hesitation. Somehow he still preserved his humanity... but he took his false hatred so far that I wonder how it wasn't real. He told me that he knew he’d made a mistake in trying to make me hate him. Says that he should have trusted me from the start. He asked me to forgive him, and I did. I do." She almost doesn't hear him over the moving water when he says, "But I still remember."

She follows his gaze toward a patch of trees in the middle distance. She recalls a fact about the Uchiha kekkei genkai, that the Sharingan gives the user perfect photographic memory. She studies his eyes and hopes he’s not reliving every one of his most painful moments for the ten thousandth time as they speak.

"Sometimes I try to talk to him. I want to understand more about him. I just wish... I had more time with him. The real him."

An image of another world comes into her mind, one where Itachi and Sasuke are together. Happy. A world where Sasuke is _happy._ In passing, she thinks that she would gladly trade her life for Itachi's if it would give Sasuke peace, or, at least, take on his pain herself so he could be free of it. But she knows this burden is his alone, and she aches.

She chances contact; first it's a hand on his back. When he doesn't recoil, she wraps one arm around him, and then the other. He leans into her.

“I killed him, Sakura.” The words are muffled against her shoulder, and she hugs him tighter. He whispers, “I loved him so much."

"Oh, Sasuke..." 

She doesn’t let go.

They sit on the riverbank in silence for what must be a half an hour. At some point they’d broken away from the embrace; they’re still close, but with space between them.

Under other circumstances, she’d be in total bliss, spending the afternoon next to him, but now, with the weight of what she’s learned, she just feels sick. Guilt, most prominently, spreads in her stomach, makes her want to vomit.

She's ashamed that there was a time when she felt like she deserved an apology from Sasuke. She regrets not visiting him more often during his year in prison, like Naruto and Kakashi had, regrets allowing him to suffer without her. _And how he'd suffered._ No one heals in isolation. She wants to scream at herself.

Naruto knew. Kakashi knew. They’d gone to him, talked with him, undoubtedly helped him process and heal, while she’d kept her distance. She’s grateful to them, but it’s a punch in the gut.

Her eyes sting, and words are caught in her throat. She has to say something.

"Sasuke, I'm sorry," she blurts, when she can’t take it anymore. "I'm so sorry for leaving you alone."

He lifts his head to look at her. "What are you talking about?"

"After the war, I hardly spoke to you." Words are spilling out, and hot tears aren’t far behind. "I was scared and hurt, but it was so selfish." She repeats, in a whisper, "So selfish."

"Sakura." His eyes are focused on her completely. "Ever since we were little, you’ve always tried to be there for me. I pushed you away. I hurt you. I don’t blame you."

She shakes her head vigorously, because the conversation is becoming about _her,_ and that’s the last thing she wants, so she cuts him off. "But _you_ were hurting, Sasuke, so much more than I ever was."

“That’s no excuse to treat my friends—to treat _you_ the way that I did.”

 _No, no, no._ “Sasuke—”

“Sakura. Stop.” He lays his hand on hers. It’s so gentle, and it silences her. “It’s okay.”

It’s _not_ okay, and tears are flowing freely now. 

“Why did you ask me to come with you this time?”

“You don’t know?”

She meets his eyes and realizes she _doesn't_ know. Her mind is blank, and she hopes he’ll answer for her.

“I wanted to spend more time with you,” he says simply. “I finally felt like I could give you... the attention that you deserve. The time you deserve.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“Sakura. I wanted to spend time with you.” He gives a _tch_ and looks away. With a playful hint that takes her off-guard, he says, “Don’t make me say it again. It’s embarrassing.” He smiles the tiniest bit and eyes her from the side, as if checking for her reaction.

It takes her a moment to register the quip. She manages a laugh, grateful for the broken tension and his forgiveness. Drying her tears with her sleeve, she teases back, “So embarrassing."

He nudges her shoulder lightly before rising to his feet. “Let’s go find something to eat.”

She takes the hand he offers, using it to stand. If their contact lingers for a moment longer than natural, neither of them mention it.

-

That night as they lie in the tent, she moves a little bit closer to him. (They still don't touch.) She thinks he's already asleep when he says, "Sakura."

She turns, surprised. "Yes?"

"Thank you, for today."

She nearly jumps as his fingers brush her arm, and he finds her hand in the dark. He squeezes it, and she can feel heat rising to her face. When she's collected herself, she says, "You're welcome, Sasuke."

She doesn't move her hand, and neither does he.

They sleep soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay wow I was really not concretely planning on writing more of these two, but I’ve been going through a Sasuke phase out of nowhere which brought about this. (I decided to write two more after this one, so stay tuned :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!!


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